Destiny has taken over this MP’s life.
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A date with Destiny: Tom Watson on the best and worst games of 2014

Tom Watson sits through the best and worst video games so you don’t have to.

Video games are fast becoming an unaffordable luxury. If Ed Miliband ever needs a new angle on the “cost-of-living crisis”, he could lead a fair-pricing campaign. He’d be on to an election winner, given that over half of the nation now plays games regularly.

New instalments of franchises dominated the store shelves this year, among them Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare – Day Zero Edition, set in the “plausible future” of a world dominated by private military corporations and full of hi-tech weapons. Throw in the price of the game and season pass add-ons and you won’t get much change from £80. Is this value for money? Millions of gamers still think so. I know people who book time off work to play through the whole Call of Duty story in one go.

The big disappointment of the year was Watch Dogs. I believed the hype – this would be like the Grand Theft Auto series with simulated computer-hacking. How foolish I was to jump straight in without reading the reviews! That’s the trouble with buying from a console’s online store. If the game is pap, you can’t take it back to the shop and sell it second-hand to recoup your losses.

Watch Dogs has so many complex side missions and obligatory tasks that it becomes dull; it’s humourlessly derivative of the open world of Grand Theft Auto V. There’s a reason why more than 33 million copies have been sold so far – it’s funny and exciting. Rockstar Games has recently released an updated version for the PS4 and Xbox One that is worth every penny. The attention to detail is impressive, with significantly improved landscapes and new weapons and vehicles. The developers have even added 100 new tracks for the in-car radios.

Titanfall, which was expected to surpass the global leader Call of Duty, was a disappointment. As it was developed by the team behind the original Call of Duty, it had instant loyalty sales. The mechanics allow you to “double-jump” around the landscape and are lovely but the game is devoid of a decent plot. The combat challenges are dull and repetitive. People paid for it, played it for two weeks, then left it completely.

There are, however, some beautiful games in the £20-£40 price range. My choice of the year is Infamous Second Son. It was the first game to show off the souped-up processing power of the new PS4 console. The hero, Delsin, chases his opponents around Seattle and can blow things up with pixel-perfect precision. This game was exclusive to the PS4 and justified my choice to upgrade from the Xbox 360.

The big surprise of the year was Wolfenstein: the New Order. It’s part of the ultimate franchise – the 1992 game was the earliest major first-person shooter. You play William “B J” Blazkowicz, who emerges from a vegetative state in the 1960s to find that the Nazis won the war. The format is so old it doesn’t even have online game play – an impediment in the broadband age. Yet stunning graphics and smooth game mechanics, combined with a gory, humorous plot, produce a memorable game that fully warrants an 18 classification. Keith Vaz missed a trick this year by forgetting to condemn it in the pages of the Daily Mail. If the makers, Bethesda Softworks, can modernise this old classic, we should be in for a treat when they publish a new version of Doom in 2015.

Despite mixed reviews, one game has taken over my life. While Destiny offers little you would consider groundbreaking for a product that reportedly cost £300m to make, it combines a series of game genres into a hugely compelling experience. Bungie, which created Halo, has plundered the best bits of other successful franchises to create an awesome game. Destiny has online play as good as Call of Duty, weaponry as satisfying as Wolfenstein and a touch of the “massively multi-player” feel of World of Warcraft. It’s so good that I broke a golden rule and purchased headphones to assist in online team play. Playing in a team to defeat a larger foe should be completely normal for a socialist MP, yet the sense of inadequacy when you’ve let the side down is huge. Being bettered by younger and more able colleagues is what I play video games to escape from. Plus ça change.

During the recent supposed coup against Ed Miliband, I was planning the downfall of Atheon, the final boss in the “Vault of Glass” raid in Destiny, with a trade union official from Manchester and an English language student from Rome. It’s this experience that has led me to form the view that crime is dropping thanks to video games. If Ed wants an easier life in 2015, maybe he should buy John Mann and Simon Danczuk a PS4 this Christmas. 

Tom Watson is the MP for West Bromwich East (Labour)

Tom Watson is the MP for West Bromwich East, and Deputy Chair of the Labour Party. He is also an avid gamer and campaigner for media integrity.

This article first appeared in the 19 December 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Christmas Issue 2014

Photo: Hunter Skipworth / Moment
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Cones and cocaine: the ice cream van's links with organised crime

A cold war is brewing to the tinkling of "Greensleeves".

Anyone who has spent a summer in this country will be familiar with the Pavlovian thrill the first tinny notes of “Greensleeves” stir within the stolid British breast.

The arrival of the ice cream van – usually at least two decades older than any other vehicle on the road, often painted with crude approximations of long-forgotten cartoon characters and always, without fail, exhorting fellow motorists to “Mind that child!” – still feels like a simple pleasure of the most innocent kind.

The mobile ice cream trade, though, has historical links with organised crime.

Not only have the best routes been the subject of many, often violent turf wars, but more than once lollies have served as cover for goods of a more illicit nature, most notoriously during the Glasgow “Ice Cream Wars” of the early 1980s, in which vans were used as a front for fencing stolen goods and dealing drugs, culminating in an arson attack that left six people dead.

Although the task force set up to tackle the problem was jokingly nicknamed the “Serious Chimes Squad” by the press, the reality was somewhat less amusing. According to Thomas “T C” Campbell, who served almost 20 years for the 1984 murders before having his conviction overturned in 2004, “A lot of my friends were killed . . . I’ve been caught with axes, I’ve been caught with swords, open razors, every conceivable weapon . . . meat cleavers . . . and it was all for nothing, no gain, nothing to it, just absolute madness.”

Tales of vans being robbed at gunpoint and smashed up with rocks abounded in the local media of the time and continue to pop up – a search for “ice cream van” on Google News throws up the story of a Limerick man convicted last month of supplying “wholesale quantities” of cocaine along with ice cream. There are also reports of the Mob shifting more than 40,000 oxycodone pills through a Lickety Split ice cream van on Staten Island between 2009 and 2010.

Even for those pushing nothing more sinister than a Strawberry Split, the ice cream business isn’t always light-hearted. BBC Radio 4 devoted an entire programme last year to the battle for supremacy between a local man who had been selling ice creams in Newbiggin-by-the-Sea since 1969 and an immigrant couple – variously described in the tabloids as Polish and Iraqi but who turned out to be Greek – who outbid him when the council put the contract out to tender. The word “outsiders” cropped up more than once.

This being Britain, the hostilities in Northumberland centred around some rather passive-aggressive parking – unlike in Salem, Oregon, where the rivalry from 2009 between an established local business and a new arrival from Mexico ended in a highish-speed chase (for an ice cream van) and a showdown in a car park next to a children’s playground. (“There’s no room for hate in ice cream,” one of the protagonists claimed after the event.) A Hollywood production company has since picked up the rights to the story – which, aptly, will be co-produced by the man behind American Sniper.

Thanks to competition from supermarkets (which effortlessly undercut Mister Softee and friends), stricter emission laws in big cities that have hit the UK’s ageing fleet particularly hard, and tighter regulations aimed at combating childhood obesity, the trade isn’t what it used to be. With margins under pressure and a customer base in decline, could this summer mark the start of a new cold war?

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

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